Slice of Life

When I was five, my father brought home a handsome deaf boy and made him my child husband.

I prided myself on being a progressive woman; since childhood, I always told people he was my brother. I never expected that, more than ten years later, one drunken night,

I slept with him – and forgot about it.

I picked up my boyfriend’s phone by mistake, only to see a message his ex had just sent: “I forgot to take the morning-after pill that night.”

Those few short words left me chilled to the bone.

The night before last, I had a sudden bout of acute gastroenteritis. He was supposedly working overtime at the office, and I called him over a dozen times, but I couldn’t get through.

Enduring the piercing pain, I eventually took a taxi to the hospital alone at three in the morning.

As it turns out, the reason his phone was off and he never came home that night was that he was with his ex-girlfriend.

When I first started dating Xie Mingchen, he had absolutely nothing to his name.

My friends all told me not to be a fool. They said that with my looks and background, I could find any wealthy man I wanted; there was no need to suffer alongside him.

Now that he’s become the high-flying President Xie, a darling of the venture capital world, those same people say I only won out because I made my move early.

They claim that with his current status, surrounded by women of every shape and beauty, I wouldn’t even stand a chance otherwise.

Even my mother has switched sides. She keeps telling me to lower my guard and learn how to act vulnerable. She warns me not to spend all these years with him only to end up with nothing.

I couldn’t help but snap back, “If he doesn’t bring up marriage, am I supposed to beg him for it?”

“That stubborn streak of yours is going to be your downfall!” My mother sighed, frustrated by my lack of initiative. “What else are you going to do if you don’t play along? Are you really going to let someone else enjoy the shade of the tree you planted yourself?”

I didn’t want to argue; I just felt wronged.

Why was it that in this long-drawn-out relationship, I was the one who did the hoping and the one who felt the disappointment? And now, I was still the one expected to drop hints and nudge him into finally taking action.

The moment our daughter was born, my husband immediately named her Xingyue.

He looked at me gently and said, “From now on, you and Xingyue are my most precious treasures in this world.”

I was so touched-until one day, I discovered something.

His ex-girlfriend’s name was also Xingyue.

Because he was poor, Zhou Jinyan never brought up the subject of marriage.

That was until the day I saw him casually open a bottle of wine that cost as much as my entire annual salary.

It turned out that being born into royalty and living a life of luxury was the true Zhou Jinyan.

His friend asked, “Aren’t you tired of playing the pauper after five years? When do you plan to come clean with her?”

Zhou Jinyan flicked his eyelids open with nonchalance. “On the day of the engagement, I suppose.”

I didn’t get hysterical. On the day of his engagement, I boarded a plane and crossed the ocean.

I later heard that on the day of his engagement,

He suddenly had a change of heart midway, driving back to an old rental apartment.

When he saw that the place was empty and I was gone, he completely lost his mind.

Ever since Huo Yu married me,

his son has been making a fuss nonstop.

“Bad Woman won’t let me eat!”

“She won’t let the butler tell me bedtime stories!”

“Daddy, she bullies me every day, wuwuwu…”

Huo Yu was used to his son’s unreasonable tantrums and didn’t pay much attention.

Until one day, he suddenly realized it had been half a month since he last received a complaint call.

Huo Yu found it rather odd.

After finishing work that evening, he took the initiative to call his son to coax him to sleep.

Unexpectedly, his usually clingy son seemed uninterested.

“Daddy, go to bed early. There’s a ton of stuff to do at kindergarten tomorrow.”

Huo Yu:?

My five-year unrequited love has come to an end.

It ended because Shen Chen’s “white moonlight,” Su Yue, has returned.

Half a month ago, on the first day of autumn, I made some stewed pear soup to bring to Shen Chen.

Shen Chen smokes constantly and never listens when I tell him to stop, so I’ve made it a habit to prepare stewed pears with fritillary bulbs for him whenever the seasons change.

When I arrived, Shen Chen opened the door shirtless.

As the door swung wide, the air in the room smelled thick and suggestive. The scent of body wash clinging to him was the very one we had bought together.

I looked down and immediately spotted a pair of round-toed, mid-heel shoes. They were cute, yet they felt like an eyesore.

“Who is it?” a sweet, cloying female voice called out from the bedroom.

Shen Chen took the pear soup from my hands. His eyes were filled with guilt, but he prioritized his options in an instant.

“It’s just delivery.”

By the time the Female Lead appeared, I was already pregnant with Zhou Shiyu’s child.

I failed to fight against fate. He once risked everything to break off his engagement with her for my sake, but eventually, he grew to hate me to his very core. Even a single glance at me filled him with nothing but disgust.

Finally, I grew tired of it all. I let go of our tangled emotions and even gave up on the child.

It wasn’t until an evening six years later.

A young child knocked on my door.

With a stern, stoic expression that mimicked an adult, he said, “My dad doesn’t want me anymore. Can I stay with you?”

I am a Zombie.

Early in the morning, my mom burst into my room, yanked open the curtains, and, wearing an apron and brandishing a spatula, shouted at me: “Still sleeping? Stayed up late again last night, didn’t you? I’ve told you to spend less time on your phone-are you deaf?”

I got up slowly. She glanced out the window and said, “Look at Xiao He next door-how many brains have they eaten already? And you’re still waiting here, waiting for me to feed you, is that it? Get out!”

I was really annoyed, but couldn’t say anything. I mechanically washed my face and got ready to go out and hide for a bit, but my mom said again, “Take your bag! And bring back some groceries from the supermarket: cabbage, celery, lettuce, and pork. Make sure it’s fresh!”

“Oh, and don’t eat the brains on the ground, too many germs…”

…

My sister was beautiful and brilliant, always effortlessly winning people over.

Compared to her, my plain self was like a timid little mouse.

My parents used to say, “How can you even compare yourself to your sister?”

My childhood friend said, “Jiajia and you don’t look like sisters.”

I asked him, “Then what do we look like instead?”

Sniffling, he replied:

“Like a princess and her maid.”

That was until I met Cen Yi.

My parents were clinging to my sister, introducing her to his family and boasting about how exceptional their daughter was.

I stood off to the side, stealing glances at the cookies on the table.

But he bypassed everyone else and pulled me into a tight embrace.

“Mine,”

he said.